  I fear for my future husband. I simply can not function for a week unless I have one of the following; a heart to heart, a make out session, cuddling, or something to cry about. How sick is that? I can’t even substitute music for any of the aforementioned. It’s like, I need something to feel, even if it’s total sluttiness or sadness. Those things remind me that I’m alive. If I were stranded on a desert island, which is admittedly unlikely, my heart would implode.
I need people to obsess about. I need people’s hair to pet and people to giggle with. I need people who will jump on trampolines with me in the middle of the night. And no matter what accommodations said island had, a lack of laughter or discussion or sighing would cause cardiac arrest. I am going to blame bad writing, the last two months of shitty writing, on boys. Just the gender in general. Affectionately… Anna 
